


No One

by stonerskittles



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Funeral, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e06 Motel California, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 16:19:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3535991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonerskittles/pseuds/stonerskittles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But Scott didn’t realise, Stiles was still human and he was all those things. He still wasn’t popular, or good at lacrosse or important. No, that was Scott. And well, if Stiles was no one there’s no reason to stick around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was only after Stiles had gotten home, and was lying in bed trying and failing to sleep did he think about Scott’s words.

_We were nothing. We weren’t popular. We weren’t good at lacrosse. We weren’t important. We were no one. Maybe I should just be no one again. No one at all._

But Scott didn’t realise, Stiles was still human and he was all those things. He still wasn’t popular, or good at lacrosse or important. No, that was Scott. And well, if Stiles was no one there’s no reason to stick around.

Yes, Stiles understood that Scott didn’t really think that; it was the Darach influencing him. But it made sense. What’s the point of living, if you’re no one? If you’re nothing? _You’re someone. You’re a researcher for the pack,_ Stiles thought. But a little voice inside him said, _they’ve got Lydia for that. She’s smarter, more resourceful_ and _she’s some psychic thing that always knows where the dead bodies are. How can you top that?_ And Stiles couldn’t. He couldn’t think of a single thing to keep here.

There was his dad, of course, but why would he want a failure, hyperactive bastard of a son? Stiles knew he looked his mother; could see the sadness in his fathers’ eyes when he looks at him. Scott had Allison or he would because _everyone_ knew them getting back together was inevitable and he had the pack. He and Isaac had been spending more time together lately as well.

Stiles had no other friends besides Scott, and he used the term “friend” loosely because Scott had been a shitty friend lately. But Stiles still considered him his brother. Because that was Stiles.

Lydia, the girl he’d loved since he was 8, even she didn’t give a shit about him. She had Jackson, who was rich, popular, and handsome. _Everything he wasn’t._ Then after he had left, after she had admitted in front of everybody that she loved him, she had moved on to Aiden. Another werewolf, an evil one to make matters worse. Who, just like Jackson was handsome and popular and rode a motorcycle. Why would Lydia be with him? Aiden can protect her with his werewolf powers, what could Stiles do? Nothing.

_We weren’t popular…_

Stiles thought about school. Walking with Scott where people would stop Scott to talk or just congratulate him on the latest lacrosse game, while Stiles just stood there, invisible. Even Danny, nicest guy there was and liked everybody, didn’t like him. Danny just ignored Stiles whenever he tried to talk to him.

_We weren’t good at lacrosse…_

The one and only time Stiles has scored, he was so happy. Filled with pride and joy because _he – Stiles Stilinski –_ had scored. And then he had been kidnapped and beat up. Even after, the next day at school, no one seemed to remember or care that he had scored.

With shaky hands, Stiles brought one to his face which had become increasingly wet. He was crying. And he was breathing fast, his heart pounding. A panic attack. Reaching over to his bag, he reached inside blindly for his inhaler. Trying to remember techniques the doctor had told him and drawing a blank. Finally. He found it. Closing his fingers around it he could finally breathe again after a few inhales. But he still cried. _There’s a gun in dad’s room. You know he keeps one by his bed._ Stiles felt himself lift up from his position on his bed and enter his dads’ room. And there it was. His dads’ gun. With almost numb fingers he picked it up and walked back to his room. Luckily his dad was on the graveyard shift tonight.

Clicking the safety off silently, the teenager placed the muzzle of the gun against his temple and squeezed his eyes shut. _Three…_ the tears continued to fall… _two…_ a broken sob escaped his lips but he held strong… _One._

_No._

He had to leave something, a note, so they knew it wasn’t their fault. Wasn’t their fault he was a failure, that he wasn’t clever enough or strong enough or just _not good enough._ At his desk was a spiral notepad and a pen, which he opened and began to write.

_To whoever finds this,_

_Tell my dad I’m sorry I wasn’t a good son. And I wish I could be better. But I can’t. I tried, I tried so hard but I just couldn’t. I’m sorry mom's dead because of me, and I’m sorry you lost your job because of me. Please don’t start drinking again. I love you. And don’t worry, I’ll be with mom, I’ll tell her that you took good care of me like you promised her before she died._

_Scott, my brother, I’ll miss you. I know you’ll think this was your fault; try to blame yourself in some way. Don’t. It’s my fault I’m no one, and it’s my fault I didn’t try harder to be better. Tell the pack I’ll miss them._

_Lydia, I love you. I hope you find happiness, with someone who deserves you and can take care of you and be everything you need. Don’t settle for anything less. You’re official researcher for the pack now, I’m sure you’ll do a better job than I ever did._

_I’m sorry._

_Love, Stiles._

Some words were smudges with tears, but it was still mostly readable. He places it beside him, easily seen so he knows it’ll be found when he’s gone.

Re-positioning the gun, he closed his eyes again. But this time, they weren’t squeezed shut, instead they softly closed and he even had a small smile on his face. There was no hesitation as he squeezed the trigger. The resounding bang echoing through the quiet house. Stiles fell back against the wall, arm holding the gun dropping till it fell in his lap. That small smile still on his face.

And that’s how, hours later, Derek Hale found him.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The funeral was 2 weeks after Stiles’ suicide.

A lot of people showed up, more so than Derek expected. From Isaac, he’d gotten the impression not a lot of people really liked Stiles, just tolerated him.

_Guilt._

Derek could relate to that, after seeing Stiles’ dead boy with that small smile he’d felt sick and overwhelmed with the urge to apologise over and over for not being nicer to him or telling him how he felt or for listening to him more. Instead he took his phone and hurriedly dialled 911, dropping the phone in his haste to type the numbers in fast enough even though from his werewolf senses that Stiles was dead.

Derek had, in fact, been over to get Stiles to research something for him. And after reading Stiles’ letter, seeing the _you’re official researcher for the pack now_ he had wrote for Lydia, Derek had nearly ripped the paper in anger. Not anger at Stiles, but for himself. That’s all Stiles thought he was, a researcher for the pack but he was more than that. _So much more_ and Derek could have kicked himself for not making sure Stiles didn’t know that.

From his position at the back of the church, he could see his pack who were all seated at the front, over the crowd. The priest was talking something Derek wasn’t listening to. He was focusing on his pack, who were radiating pain and loss. The whole place smelt of it.

_Pain. Grief. Despair._

It made bile raise in Derek’s throat, but he swallowed it down. From here, he could see Allison leaning her head on Scott’s shoulder, crying quietly. The boy was openly crying and sobbing, clutching the hand of Isaac who wasn’t showing any obvious signs of grief but kind of curled in on himself. Boyd sat next to Isaac, sitting straight and forward, stoic as ever but Derek could see his hands curled into tight fists in his lap. Lydia was staring straight ahead, tissue in hand and wiping away tears discreetly.

“Now, the Sheriff would like to say a few words.” The priest said, moving from his stand to allow John to take his place. The man looked terrible. His eyes were red and looked sore, and he stunk of alcohol.

He took a deep breath and cleared his throat before beginning to speak.

“Thank you all for coming today. I-Stiles was a special boy. He was bright, talkative and _so damn hyperactive_ it was hard to keep up with him sometimes,” a few people in the crowd laughed along with the Sheriff whose eyes had filled with tears.

Derek himself smiled a little in agreement.

“He was always looking out for people, even me. He’d come down to the station to check on me, make sure I was eating right and he’d never let it go, no matter what I said. I’d always grumble and complain but I was so proud of him and I never got to tell him that. Always thought I’d have more time to tell him,” a tear fell down Johns’ cheek. “Stiles will never be forgotten. I-I’ll live with this guilt until the day I die, I failed my son. But I know- _I know_ – that right now, he’s with his mom, looking down at us today and that, that fills me with peace.” Everyone clapped, most wiping away tears. The priest moved back to his spot.

“Next, Scott McCall would like to say something.” He said.

Scott stood up and slowly made his way up the podium. “Stiles is-was my best friend; my brother. I haven’t been a good friend lately, always preoccupied with something or someone and that was wrong. I didn’t notice that something was wrong and I’m kicking myself for it. Stiles wasn’t like that; he’d put others before himself and he’d always notice if you were down or upset and he’d try his best to help. Stiles left a note and in it, it said,” Scott took a shaky breath.

“It said ‘I know you’ll think this was your fault; try to blame yourself in some way. Don’t.’ and I remember thinking, through the confusion and tears that even though he was about to die; about to take his life he was _still_ thinking about others.”

Maybe Derek should have been surprised that Stiles had wrote that for Scott, but he wasn’t. It was so typically Stiles that he didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry.

“Stiles thought he was no one, and that was the furthest thing from the truth. He was the glue that kept everyone together; the one who knew everything and the one you could go to for anything. In our group, we had this joke that he was the pack mom; he’d help us with homework, me especially,” Scott smiled fondly in memory. “And he’d always be there if you wanted to talk or needed a shoulder to cry on. Everyone loved Stiles; it was impossible not to. No one could replace him, not ever.” A tear fell as he finished his speech and he wiped it away quickly as he went back to his seat.

There was a pregnant silence.

“Well-“ the priest cleared his throat. “Would anyone else like to say anything?”

Derek itched. Should he go up and say something? As Alpha, it’d be the right thing to do; the proper thing to do. _No._ Derek couldn’t do it. He couldn’t go up in front of all those people and talk about Stiles to them. He just couldn’t. Suddenly it was all too much. He had to get out of there. Thankful he was at the back, Derek quietly slipped out and ran straight into his uncle.

“Peter?” Derek asked, confused. What the hell was he doing here?

Peter held up a bouquet of flowers; Derek recognised Anemone flowers, white lilies, Orchids and a single black rose. “I came to pay my respects.” He replied stiffly.

“Why?”

“Stiles was a fun human. Not like the others.” Peter finished the conversation by walking away, creeping his way into the church.

Derek left quickly, he couldn’t take much more of this.

It took a week until Derek could go to visit Stiles’ grave. Every time he thought about it, he felt sick and got a little dizzy.

When he arrived at the cemetery, he sat in front of the gravestone. It read:

_Here lies Genim Stilinski_

_1997-2013_

_Loving son and friend_

_Gone but never forgotten_

Derek sat there for what felt like a long time but was actually 10 minutes before he opened his mouth and began to talk. “I’m sorry it’s took me so long to see you. And I’m sorry I walked out during your funeral but it was too hard. I couldn’t stand there and listen to them talk about you like you were dead- even though you are. Why did you do that, Stiles? Why? Didn’t you know how it would affect everyone? Affect me? I guess you wouldn’t. I was never good at expressing my feelings; not after Paige and Kate. You remind me of Paige. She was feisty and never backed down, like you. She died in my arms and it was my fault. I let Kate in and she burned my family alive, which was my fault to. I-I liked you, but I couldn’t hurt you. Everyone I love gets hurt…” Derek trailed off sadly.

“It’s hard to believe you’re not here anymore. I’ll find a book and I’ll think ‘I must show Stiles this; he’ll love it,’ and then I remember you’re gone… and I just can’t do it. I can’t think about you being dead and that I can’t go to your place when I miss you with the excuse of research or push you against something just so I can touch you. Dammit, Stiles, why would you do that?” Derek ran his fingers through his hair and pulled with frustration. “You were fucking perfect. So perfect it almost hurt and you went and- I found you, you know. I couldn’t believe it at first. I thought you were sleeping, fought _so hard_ to believe you were sleeping but I knew. How could you? How am I supposed to go on without you here?” Tears were falling from his eyes but Derek couldn’t be bothered to wipe them away. He was sobbing quietly and he knew this would be the only time he’d allow himself to this. After, he’d have to be strong for his pack.

But just as he thought that, a hand was on his shoulder and suddenly his pack was sitting around him, crying with him. Surrounded by his pack, Derek threw his head back and howled. It was chilling and heart-breaking. Goosebumps raised on the arms of everyone who heard it. His pack followed suit, howling in unison.

After they’d quietened and silence has fallen, Derek swore he heard a small howl back. And Derek knew Stiles was still with him, and he always will be.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](http://halereyes.tumblr.com//)


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